Christmas Bloody Christmas

It's the most wonderful time of the year or so we are lead to believe if we listen to the song that has been stuck in my head since mid november.
The grim truth is i hate it and everything it stands for. The gluttony , the greed , the sprouts, crap so called christmas films that should fill you with a sense of zombie like happiness. They don't they are just bad films that are thrown at us at the same time every year and  labeled christmas classics.
Then there is family. Those wonderful folks that you spend the vast proportion of the year avoiding like the absolute plague and here they are all flatulent from sprouts wearing the stupidest paper hats and in your LIVING ROOM  and your expected to play board games with them.
There was a christmas not so long ago when for a split second while cutting carrots, i did toy with the idea of cutting off a finger and spending christmas day at the hospital. For those few magical moments i was happy in my day dream.
Sadly this time of year is fast approaching with all the enthusiasm of a chocolate smeared toddler who has just filled his nappy. How do i know this you may wonder.
Well it's the little things that give it away.
Firstly it's getting cold there is talk of snow.
Secondly the adverts have taken on their own air of desperation and forced happiness. So now they are even more awful than usual.
Thirdly some social net working sights seem to be filled with people putting up pictures of the christmas tree the symbol of the first of many arguments in the household over this period. I don't want to see them . I have zero interest in the fact that all your lights are working and you have morphed your frontroom into another santa's grotto.
So this year as with every other year i can think of i will refuse to send out the cards , i will grudgingly buy the minimum amount of gifts. If i get pressured into it i may grumpily throw a tree somewhere ( i got one already decorated ) and i will spend the rest of this time reminding people who really should know better to not bother me with anything even vaguely seasonal. I don't want cards i will send back gifts i would like to be left alone on my own so i can have the perfect non christmas for me.

Identity.

If i died tomorrow who would remember me ?

How would i be remembered?

What have i achieved ?

Who am i ?

Have i actually done anything or have the last nearly 40 years been just a mass of wasted opportunities and bad choices ?

If i lost everything tomorrow what would i actually loose ?

These questions maybe horribly morbid but for some time now they have haunted me.I'm no longer sure what my life is, what i am supposed to do , what i'm here for. I'm drifting deeper into a hole. Sometimes i see myself and think i don't know you. This isn't me. I'm not who i was. I had plans. I had things to say, now i'm not so sure.

Anyone reading this will most probably tell me to get a grip. After all i have my kids, I'm in a relationship. I should be happy, content, but something is missing. In having these things i have lost a sense of myself..

Before i drown in my own self wallowing, I have a question.

HOW MANY OTHER PEOPLE OUT THERE FEEL THIS WAY??

Yes there are those lucky ones out there that are happy and content with themselves and their lies. They have everything they want right now.They can sit and look about them and say " Yes i have everything i want and life is good."

What about the rest ? What about the people who catch a glance of themselves in a mirror and just for that split second wonder if that is it. The people who look at what they have and wonder " is this it?"
"Is this what my life is like ?"
"Is this what i chose?"
"Is this who i chose to be ?"
The people out there who don't know who they are inside.

Or is it just me ??

just a blog

my life is a station platform on which i stand and watch the trains of lives gone by as they pass through it. The memories of stolen moments, the regrets of what could have been and never really was. People i have known and lost and miss with every passing day. And now i stand alone the cloak that numbs me pulled close and tucked under my chin as the wind whistles heralding another train another chapter.Will this be the train that takes me away from my thoughts to that rock where i can sit and not feel. So i can take off my cloak and throw it to the sea and watching as the waves take it and pull it under. Will this be the train that free's me?

who what where when and why the fuck ..... answers on a postcard please

Well here we are again . Another month another blog . Felt i should write something although i'm not sure what to say or where to start.
Ok so the music has gone on i am now ignoring the world for a moment. When i say the world what i mean is i can't write this when there are people talking to me about other things that don't belong here in my mind. After all this blog is for my thoughts. So rambling aside and lets get this done.
I've been doing a whole lot of thinking and not a whole lot of doing. i have lost my edge. i checked under the bed, down the side of the sofa. The odd missing poster went up and was quickly blown down again. Sometimes life gets in the way of well everything . And i'm rambling again because i dont know where this is going and what it will achieve if anything.
I remember a year ago what i was like. I cared less about what i thought and just said what was on my mine. Now i seem to take everyone else's feelings into account and sit on my hands. I am conscious of the fact that i have let people down that matter while pandering to the ones that only want me around when i can do something for them. i should really learn shouldnt i well at my age blah blah blah and all that. i have lost myself  maybe i just fell down a big hole. any personality i had is lost in a man trap and now i'm just horribly boring .
Mid life crisis anyone ?
maybe i should just have my nipples pierced and a big tattoo of bollocks in block capitals across my shoulder blades and maybe shave my head and have done with it.
Oh i could give up ok it sounds like i am , but i can't. after all i am the glue that keeps pants palace together . That's right just call me prit stick trust me i have been called worse. so on wards it is. i will valiantly look for my personality, my wit, my creativity amongst the washing and the ironing pile. Maybe it's hiding with the dust bunnies or at the bottom of the freezer with the frozen peas. If anyone finds it before i do it will probably tell you exactly what it thinks make you laugh and then swear a bit. if it does all of that it's mine and i would like it back once you've had your fun with it. Being prit stick isn't much fun without it .

a little spam bot poem i think we can all relate to

Hello little spam bot,
I do not want your things,
Your penis pumps,
Your plumbing tools,
Or your nipple rings.
I will not click your little links,
I am a hack free zone.
So to my little spam bot friends,
Go find another home.

this thing they call insomnia

So when all normal people with normal sleeping patterns are erm well sleeping, i am awake. It's nearly five in the morning and tonight i have met with my old friend insomnia. A chance encounter, sometimes i go weeks without the pleasure of her company but tonight she felt the need to visit me.
I was tired and achy when i dragged my body to bed. That was four hours ago. For the first hour i tried to get comfortable. I may have even drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes before i was woken again by twitching legs. So here i am. Stupid thing is half an hour ago i was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark with my eyes closed thinking yes i am now tired enough to go back to sleep. Then as soon as i lay my little self down again PING my brain woke up.
It ran through all the things i have to do tomorrow. Then it went from that to all the unpaid bills that will need paying and to the fact that i badly need a haircut but cant afford one. Then it did the all time classic insomnia trick of running through all the conversations that you should have had with people but never did.. Ok that was it . Do i lay here with sleeping man beside me, one leg out from under the duvet the other leg doing the Irish jig ? or do i say sod this and get up? I got up, first making sure said man was very asleep. So now for the rest of the night till dawn breaks i will enjoy the silence of the downstairs punctuated by the neighbor who has been banned from smoking inside his house and now feels the need to sit and smoke and cough on his front door step and the hamster on its wheel. I will also be drinking coffee and feeling grumpy and wanting to kick something.
But that is better than laying in bed beside sleeping person and watching the ceiling while your legs go mad and your brain does somersaults

until next time.

the pants have left the building..

techno bloomers

Computers, the internet, printers anti viral stuff. What do all these things have in common ? I don't understand any of them. They aren't fast enough , you find ourself having to tap angrily at the same button a hundred times before it decides what it is you wanted it to do in the first place. They never work the way i want them to.
There is a rule of thumb in Pant's Palace if Pants says it's broken it is simple as that. It won't work therefore it is obviously Wanky and invented by a monkey called Malcolm who was taking a break from poo slinging at the local zoo.
Today's technical failings are as follows.
The printer that first of all wouldn't print and then spent the next ten minutes printing blank paper while the entire Amazon rain forest wept. This is the same printer that likes staying on all the time. It won't turn off. It's as if it's afraid to miss something. So little printer when I actually want to print something and I lovingly put paper into your compartment and I then excitedly press the print thingy on my word do dab, it would be lovely if you don't sit there and tell me that you have no paper. I put half a damn tree into you. That isn't exactly no paper that's what you call over and above the amount needed to print out eight lovingly typed out pages.
I hovered as sir bent over and mumbled at it for a while today. I did contemplate going into the garden for a cigarette while he fixed it but then that wouldn't have been very supportive so i didn't. It was the longest ten minutes of my entire life wondering if it was going to print out more than blank paper. Was it using invisible ink just to piss me off? They know you see . These things know when you don't like them and they make you suffer for it. But it did work things got printed and all was well with the world once again.

That is until tonight when my virus thing needed updating.
The updating itself isn't too much of an issue. I have managed to do that myself ( shocking I know ) on a couple of occasions. It gets more interesting when sir helps me do anything techy. He knows computers you see. His mind boggles at my complete lack of knowledge about anything remotely computer like. He has tried to explain the inner workings of my comp before , thing is what usually happens is I refuse point blank to listen. So when he tried to explain to me about my aunties virus using words like flanging, filching, and fishing in the web well it was always going to be a lost cause really.
Then I find out that filching has NOTHING to do with the internet at all. it involves bumholes and liquid of a high salt content ( I also put my fingers in my ears and la la la'd to that to )
As for being accused of surfing the web well that's just daft isn't it. I use a tiny amount of what i could do. |I blog ( obviously ) use twitter and that's about it. I'm not about to jump into the internet seat a surf board in my hands and arm bands on shouting surfer dude related things am i ? I don't even use the local swimming pool for gods sake.
I did explain this to sir. He did what he usually does, rolled his eyes smiled and said,
"And that's why i love you ."
Then he went to shoot things . I haven't sen him since.

So todays lesson.

It won't work therefore it is fucked.

and thus the pants have spoken.

realistic parenting the horrible truth pants style

So the fluffy bunny adverts would have us believe that being a parent is all roses and small naked babies wrapped in poofy looking towels , toddlers are always smiling and playing , older kids get messy but then they are all cheeky scamps so that's all ok.

Anyone who thinks parenthood is even remotely like that is deranged, childless and last seen rocking in a corner dribbling. Allow me to give you the pants eye view of parenting. The abridged version.

Babies.
So hours of labor, nine months of not being able to see your ankles, fit into anything remotely looking like clothing and not a floral bin bag and puking till your eye balls pop and you have a small screaming red faced drain on your sanity.
the first few months it's a round of.
Are they breathing ?
Why are they crying?
Are they too hot? Too cold ? Hungry ect ect ect.
You are left drowning in dirty nappies, covered in projectile vomit that smells strangely milky and deafened by the hours of screaming. You read all the books ( well i didnt ) You listen to all the well intentioned advice ( nope didnt do that either ) and your tired. Now by tired i don't mean ooo i think i'll just have forty winks tired i meant tired to the brink of dribbling insanity tired.

It's not all bad though.At least they haven't started moving. You can leave them in one place and know that when you come back if you haven't fallen asleep in your soup or the washing up, they will still be there.
But babies become toddlers.
They move. They put their fingers in plug sockets . The smell of their poo takes on a whole new eyeball melting edge as they discover all the foods that you eat. When they aren't throwing the food around the room, feeding it to the dog or smearing it over the walls it's coming out of the other end. Sometimes it leaves you wondering how did something so large come from someone so small.
The best thing about this is when they have found that they can move about , they don't like staying still. Nappy changes become like an endurance test. First take your child. Now pin child to floor and strip offending area, trying not to throw up at the smell. Note to self take off socks before foot treads into open soiled poo filled nappy ( been there ). How many of you have at this point begun to loose the will to live and found yourself singing to the child what your doing ? Da dee da dee da now some cream on your bum dear la la la . Yes anything to stop the screaming midget from trying to roll over before they are cleaned dressed and sorted.
Then there are the food fad's . The children that only eat certain things. The tantrums, the children that don't sleep, and the dreaded potty training. potty training deserves it's own blog . It's awful , it's messy, the amount of washing triples, no room in the house is safe and it seems to take forever.

There is one good thing about having a small child they look up to you. Most of the time between the ages of well two and ten they seem to do what you tell them. They don't answer back that often and they seek your approval on most things. If you say jump they mumble a bit but they jump in the end . I find a death stare usual helps . The kind of stare that says i can chop you up and fit you into the oven if you don't do what i say. Starting a rumor about the child that didn't do what they were told and were never seen again seems to help to.
Now we have puberty. Your house becomes a war zone. It's house of the rising hormone. Your every word is now challenged. Nothing you do is cool anymore. Even the word cool isn't well cool. This is the time when boundaries are challenged , when children seem to be at their most expensive. They don't go to bed. they moan about how embarrassing you are. They seem to think that every time you bend over money magically appears from your rectum. They spend forever in the bathroom or point blank refuse to wash all together. They don't listen to music anymore. It's noise and it's played loudly. You find yourself doing the one thing you would never ever do . You  become your own parent the person that you swore to yourself you would never turn into. You tell yourself that you were never this badly behaved when you were your children's age when in fact you were probably worse.

Does this ever end ?
Well the worrying about them never does. You'll always be embarrassing and horribly uncool . But you'll also always be the one person that has been there. You mopped up the sick. You were the one knee deep in poo. You were the one that spent time smeared in food. You went to every parent teacher meeting at school. You always told them that you believed in them and that they would succeed in whatever they wanted to do.
That's why even though it's the hardest thing in the world to do being a parent is the one thing i am glad that i have done poo and all.

And so the pants have spoken.

a little opinion is a dangerous thing in twitter land

okay enough is enough and right now 140 characters isn't going to cut it so it's blog head on then for these pants.
tonights sermon OPINIONS .

dangerous little things these that seem to fall into three categories.

Number one.

The well informed, well thought out, well spoken ones. These are the ones from people who think before they word anything. They consider not only their own experiences but maybe the feeling of those who either listen or read them. These are opinions that i quite like. They seem to come from well rounded people, tolerant folks and in these unsettled times a little tolerance is a good thing.

Number two.

Opinions set out in joke form. Okay some of these really should come with a bit of a health warning. If they aren't funny you tend to find yourself bum clenching and sucking your teeth. If they are funny you find yourself laughing and then feeling a tad guilty because you found something funny that shouldn't have been. Either way dangerous when in the wrong hands and sometimes hurtful when read by the wrong people.

Number three.

The worst kind of opinion. Either they have been badly thought out without the knowledge of the full situation or they come from people who have simply run out of patience, compassion or any kind of feeling for the people involved. Sometimes these opinions are understandable. Most of the time though they are not. They are badly constructed and meant only to hurt others. They start arguments. They end friendships. These opinions are the ones that should be quietly thought of in your own head and never ever voiced.

Tonight i have seen all three of these types being used. Sometimes i have understood why. On a few occasions i have wanted to lift my cheeks and free my hands and reply but then thought better of it.
So i guess i'm saying that the bottom line is this, it's ok to think the way you do. we all have different experiences of life and how it has treated us. What isn't right is how your opinion effects other people around you who either listen to it or in my case read it. It's never a good thing to see anyone fall out with anyone else. Maybe i'm taking this way too seriously but it's who i am .

There is an old saying that goes, " If you can't think of anything good to say don't say anything."

and thus that pants have spoken.

a not so sentimental look at relationships

seeing as the last time I blogged I produced a poem about a poo, I thought that this time I would be maybe slightly more sensible.

The last few months at Pant's Palace have seen a good few changes. Instead of just a fluffy one and me we now have the resident tea bitch and a septic cat called fleabe ( well that's what i call her ).So with that in mind here's my skeptical account of relationships .

Here's how it starts. You have the first contact mine was on another website. An old flame messaged me complete bolt out of the blue. We messaged on and off for a while and then exchanged numbers. This is the slippery slope. You know that when you have numbers the inevitable texting happens and it did. Then the inevitable phone call that lasted a whole eight hours. Pretty much a nights sleep was lost catching up. Small wonder the phone didn't melt. I think it's a bit different when you have known each other in the past, you have the memories of those distant times. The old school days and a vague memory of how they looked back then. Then there is the first meeting . Have they changed beyond all recognition ? Have you changed ? maybe one of you has grown two heads ? Lost a limb? put on a pound or six million perhaps ? Is this actually a good idea after all ? Turns out it was like stepping back in time . Like looking at the face you remembered just with a few added wrinkles and grey bits ( his not mine ). After that night he never really left. Well just briefly to get clothes, his cat and his computer.

So here comes the skeptical part.

First few weeks they are on their best kind of behavior. You get used to the routine of them getting up before you, making you tea in bed, spoiling you watching you as if you were the most remarkable human being that ever landed. It never lasts though.
They say familiarity breeds contempt well in this house it breeds flatulence and means that you end up having to make your own tea again. They stop apologizing for cracking their knuckles. In fact if I wasn't mistaken I would think he was a transformer sometimes. Little things that don't belong to you start to arrive. So far we have my own personal favorites the box of wire and now the empty bottle collection. The food bill has gone up even though annoyingly he has lost weight and i have gained it in epic proportions. Then there is the washing pile. We wont even go there.
You have to get used to not just thinking about yourself and as i am a selfish horror that hasn't been easy to do. I like my space, my own thinking time. I'm still getting used to juggling that and everything else.

Saying all of that it has it's upside. You know the tea bitch is a keeper when you do an epic fart and he laughs without going green and falling over. He still thinks that me poking him playfully in the ribs when he least expects it is cute and he laughs at my insults.

i may have lost a bit of my ranting edge in the virtual world but in the real world i'm on fire and i don't care any more what people think of me. I can be annoying, sweary, demanding, bad tempered and i am all of those things in spades and to the tea bitch it's water off a ducks back.

so things at Pant's Palace may have changed and i know that i have but so far the change is a good one.

so my final thought on this .

It's not all about the hearts and flowers crap. It's about laughing at the stupid stuff. Giggling at farts , arguing about whose turn it is to make the tea ( his usually ) and generally taking the almighty piss out of each other. You get that right your onto a winner.

And so the Pants have spoken.

Ode to the poo

You are more than brown and smelly
my little fecal friend
you come in different sizes
sometimes you never end
From walnut whip to splatter
my little fecal friend
you never disappoint me
your smell seems to transcend
it creeps under the toilet door
announcing it's arrival
screams of "open the window "
are heard in every household
So ode to the poo
it's always underestimated
From first sploosh
to last flush
a poo will be created.

creatively swinging ones pants

So here's the thing , you read the books, you watch the television shows , you see the films. At the end what do you do ? Do you think mmm not bad kind of enjoyed that right what's next, or do you sit and think for a bit about how what you just watched made you feel ? Could you connect with the characters ? Did you follow the plot ? Was there a twist at the end that left you sitting on your sofa thinking wow never saw that coming ? Or did you sit unsatisfied and mutter under your breath "I could do better one hand tied behind my back." Here's the thing though how many of you actually could ?
Do you have an imagination that plays in your head like a movie clip ? You can see the characters hear what they say feel how they feel. You get flash's of a story, stolen pieces as if from a programme no one has ever seen before. You feel unexplained emotions , hear parts of conversations , are transported to places you haven't been to. What do you do with all of these things if you have them playing over and over ? This is what you do.You embrace them, you welcome them and you write.
For the past ten years the same few characters have been playing out their lives in my head. So i wrote about them. I was the silent observer brandishing a pen recording every action and reaction. It's easy to lose yourself in another life. The hard part comes when real life gets in the way. It's harder to turn off than you could imagine sometimes. You resent phone calls, having to do everyday domestic things get in the way so you stop doing them. things pile up around you and you fail to notice them until someone asks you what's for tea, or you run out of spoons and can't make a cup of tea. The best example is when your walking down the street having what you think is a silent conversation in your head and then wonder why your getting strange looks from other people.Then it hits you . You have spent the whole journey muttering under your breath, pulling faces and then the ultimate moment when you make a hand gesture, not a little one that can be covered up but a big swinging operatic one . The sort people look at and then move away quickly from. Yes i have done all of that . I have been the mad woman at the bus stop people shy away from who makes faces for no reason. All because i have an imagination that takes over and announces itself in glorious technicolor and sometimes when i would rather it didn't.
saying all of that i love being able to drift off into my head, a pen in my hand, music playing and seeing where it leads me . Better still is having someone around who doesn't just pat you on the head and say that's nice dear when you say your about to do some writing. Someone who will refill your mug without you having to hint too much, who moves your desk round so you can sit closer to the keyboard to type. Someone who sorts out the back of your chair for you when it decides to lower itself when you least expect it to and someone who doesn't complain too much when you narrowly miss running over his foot with your chair while looking for a particular part of the plotline, music blaring out of your headphones so loudly that you don't notice anyone being there.
moral of this blog is embrace your imagination . Let it take you to places you least expect it to for without a imagination where would we all be ?

not exactly swinging my pants here folks

it's been a few months since i did one of these puppies called a blog. well things change lives move on , people fall apart and then find other people ect ect ect . well i cleaned house , i started being vaguely domestic. You can see more floor space now than you could before . Thing is is this a good thing or not ? Does this mean that i am loosing my edge as some people have suggested though not exactly as bluntly as i have just said it , but it has been hinted at thats for sure. Maybe it's the misery loves company thing i really couldnt tell you without being brutal . Think i may let tact take over and sit on my pointy fence for this one. I have found that a little opinion is a dangerous thing sometimes so i tend to keep mine to myself and let them bubble in a big mental caldron.

talking of mental not that anyone was mind you but i thought i would bring it up. i have the feeling that this is about to become a random rollercoaster of shit . Anyway back to mental . I hear it's mental health month and that got me thinking about shit/stuff for the more polite out there that read this. The main debate raging in my head was the pills vs feelings debate . It's an interesting one for me . Right now i have been two weeks anti D's free and im still wondering if that was a good idea or not. My mind is running in circles right now. All this things that my lovely little white to be taken daily tablets have  been squashing are coming to he fore front of my head once more. My sleeping pattern is well interesting . I sleep but not well i have nightmares i wake wondering where the hell i am and not remembering what i have dreamt. But at least now i can actually put something down on a blog that doesn't sound like today i did this then i did that isnt life wonderful ( yawn yawn ) . I mainly stoppe d them because although i could function i couldn't feel , i couldnt write i wasn't inspired my imagination had left me. Infact i hadnt done anything creative for months and that i hated . i hate not having an imagination i hate not feeling inspired it's as if a part of me goes missing when that happens. It's like loosing a limb or the part of your mind that keeps everything interesting . Dare i say it it's like being normal and i fucking hate it . so i stopped taking the pills . two weeks on first blog is happening and i havent killed anyone so far. bit of a result really because i have a terrible temper when things dont happen the way i think they should do. So the pills vs the madness personally i have chosen the madness because its what i know . Have i given up ? no i am embracing who i am the unedited version nothing squashed with white fluffiness, no walking in soup for these pants . maybe i will be able to get some writing done well thats the plan anyhow if i ever get off twitter long enough to do anythat is.

until next time the pants have left the building

how not to make an instant whip

i am not a domestic goddess . i have never been a domestic goddess . if i ever turn out to be a domestic goddess please fell free to shoot me . my house resembles a cross between a spiders web and a bad day in beruit but i do know where everything is honest . well my thinking is if i can't find it i obviously don't need it do i .

so tonight i had a sudden little burst of something not sure what mind you but for this blog we can call it inspiration. i remembered that i had instant whip of the chocolate variety lurking in the back of one of my cupboards in the kitchen . with new found enthusiasm i skipped ( well walked at a steady pace ) to said cupboard and brought forth said whip.

now instant whip is pretty idiot proof when you make it add milk, stir, bung in fridge , clock watch , tap fingers impatiently and after a reasonable amount of time you have whip. well you would have thought so wouldn't you? but no.

here is the story of what will now be known as whip gate .

firstly no clean mixing jugs they were both in the washing up , the glass one and the plastic one that makes wierd cracking noises when you pour hot water into it. so i used my brain and got a pint glass. brilliant i could still do this i thought. i haphazardly sloshed sort of the right amount of milk , should have been half a pint looked more like a pint by the end but well that was ok i could work with that. then i ripped off the top of the packet and plopped the powder into said milk. it didnt dissolve . it sat on the top of the milk like a defiant budda daring me to mix it in without a lump in sight.

heavy sigh i noticed that the whisk was in the same washing up with the jugs . i used a spoon , a big spoon and i mixed. infact i mixed till my wrist hurt . it was still lumpy. looking at it i reasoned that the lumps weren't that big and put it in the fridge. so i wait for a few minutes , get impatient and then go to investigate. so how do you know that it's set ? well you wobble the glass don't you ? well i thought you did . the top was set . awsome i thought grabbed a spoon and took and spoonful.

oh god . oh god no . i was eating fermented powder and no milk at all . it was like eating sawdust . i can only imagine the face i pulled you can only imagine the words i muttered under my breath. i stuck the spoon in further . bloody liquid . right more stirring . so i stirred and i stirred . then i remember i have a plug in whisk thing i have never used on top of a cupboard where the spiders are . do i get it or do i continue stirring? continue stirring are you mad ? no sod that i got the whisk down , put it together and plugged it in . maybe i should have reset it so it wasn't on warp speed before turning it on. my once cream jumper is now chocolate and cream but it worked . the whip has been returned to the fridge now properly whipped to within an inch of it's life and my sanity.

i really hope i fancy it once it's set .

a little thought about opinions and jokes

 so this has had me thinking . people on twitter getting slammed for opinions that other less maybe intelligent people fail to see has light hearted humor . now not everyone tweets about the same thing on there . some people use it as a networking thing , others to meet new people and share views . some as another way to stalk the stars that appear on there z list or other wise , while other people use it to berate these so called stars for their imperfections . personally i think it should be used however the person using this social networking sight ( for really thats what it is ) feel like using it .

saying that people will take offence sometimes. so baring that in mind here's my thoughts on the whole thing. now there are certain buttons on twitter the unfollow/follow button, the block button . now you see someting you dont like unfollow the person and block them . why does anyone see fit to virtually jump up and down like an offended mary whitehouse shaking a handbag for gods sake. it's an opinion. if you dont like it don't read it simple  .
now the other side of the coin goes a little something like this. maybe we should only make judgements or joke about things that we have experience in . in that case i have been a very tame little tweeter in the past. maybe from now on i shall tweet opinions about things i have experience with. here's a list of what you might expect.
incest
domestic violence
mental breakdowns
transvestites
small willies
threesomes
fighting
self harming
banana's ( long painful story )

anyway the moral of this blog is that no two people are the same .
no one should force an opinion down any one elses throat
and no one person is any better than the next

and the biggest lesson is
PEOPLE NEED TO GET LIVES SOMETIMES AND CHILL THE FUCK OUT

the pants have spoken

the bored as a bollock blog

ok finally after a small rant on twitter i am here only took five attempts to let me in so thanks for that. as if being mind numbingly bored isn't enough i now have to face being ridiculed by a password fantastic. so yes folks you guessed it i am bored and when i get bored i ramble so im bored and rambling having spellt every second word wrong and leaving out all of the punctuation as you do if you are me and known to flout the rules of English language.

It's bad when your bored your mind wanders you look about and wonder what to do next . so ive tried watching twitter, ive listened to a film while watching twitter . ive even shhh dont tell anyone but i even went on face book eekk . does this mean that i will now be outed as a traitor to the twitter cause ? bollocks does it. it just means i was so bored i was multi tasking while seated at my desk . it happens most nights . it'a a talent i can send a text write a tweet poke a friend and answer the phone all from the comfort of my squeaking desk chair .

i got so bored earlier that i went and had a bath . yes i do bath not just when im bored . but today it got to about three this afternoon , i had flung washing into the flatulent machine , well if you call flinging anything taking things out of the fluffy ones laundry basket by my finger tips , separating the boxers from the trousers and then nudging them into the machine with my foot . the Ariel liquid tab decided that it was a reincarnation of a lemming two attempts to get it to stay in the machine . thank god for my ninja powers throw tab into machine and slam the door with lightening speed before it lands on the floor with a wet splat sound .

anyway up stairs i wandered to the bathroom the only decently decorated room in pants palace and ran a bath. now why is it that you put your hand in ok it's a hot bath but it's a good heat . then you climb into it . as soon as your foot touch's the water instant burning , but you can take it . maybe it wont be so bad if you put the other foot in . so you do and no it's still stripping the skin off your other ankle. but it's ok because if you lower yourself into the water your body will get used to it . so you do slowly and carefully employing the breathing that you should have learnt in parenting classes if you had ever attended any lower yourself into this steaming cauldron of pain. ok its hot so hot that if you were in the jungle this would be a pot on a fire and naked Pigmy's would be chopping vegetables into it and dancing . parts of you have now gone from glowing healthily to an angry mottled red and you daren't move . now you resemble a patchwork quilt of human nakedness red from the waste down white from the waist up .

maybe it will get better when you lie back ? seriously why does anyone think that ? does anyone but me think that ? probably not come to think about it . so deep breath and lower more of yourself into this water trying not to scream . it was no wonder really that i felt so light headed after i had come out of the bath red faced pink body'd and squeaky clean really . i think the only thing worse than a hot bath is one when the water goes cold half way through and you dont have anymore hot water in the tank . then you lie there and shiver not daring to move untill the heating comes back on and yes i have done that to.

so in conclusion as with everything in this life bath water has its own mind . it's out to get me . just like this computer that i seem to have a love hate can't live without it relationship with . well this has been fun . feel free to comment snigger laugh think i've lost the plot i have its called bordom .

until next time folks the pants have left the building .